I picked at a pizza crust and said, “Okay, my turn. Conrad, truth or dare?”
He was lying on the couch facedown. “Never said I was playing.”
“Chicken,” Jeremiah and I said together.
“Jinx,” we said at the same time.
“You guys are two-year-olds,” Conrad muttered.
Jeremiah got up and started doing his chicken dance. “Bock bock bock bock.”
“Truth or dare,” I repeated.
Conrad groaned. “Truth.”
I was so pleased Conrad was playing with us, I couldn’t think of anything good to ask. I mean, there were a million and one things I wanted to ask him. I wanted to ask him what had happened to us, if he’d ever liked me, if any of it had been real. But I couldn’t ask those things. Even through my tequila haze, I knew that much.
Instead, I asked, “Remember that summer you liked that girl who worked
